Love In The Dark
by MiladyGirl
Summary: After a fight with her husband, Alex Blake walks out of her house and runs into the one person she thought she'd never reconnect with.


**A/N**

Hi everyone. I haven't been very active lately… or, haven't been active at all, to be honest. Various reasons. Some good, some bad. I haven't had much motivation to write, and no ideas that made it through the traumatic but necessary action of Opening A New Word Document. XD

This is my first attempt at a fanfic in weeks. I had a NaNoWriMo idea I was going to do, but things got in the way of it, and yeah, well. Anyway. Here goes.

And yes, I do plan on continuing this. 😊 It's pretty tame for the time being but that is likely to change. As will the rating, obviously.

* * *

It was one of the worst fights they had ever had. Alex could only remember one worse; the one they'd had late in the evening after Ethan's funeral. Perhaps their marriage had been over ever since; it had certainly not recovered. It was as if they both, without ever dressing it in words, blamed each other for something that nobody could be blamed for.

What had ignited _this_ particular fight was something as stupid as Alex rejecting yet another invitation to sex. She just wasn't in the mood, she was tired, still a bit achy after wrestling an unsub a couple of days ago, and James didn't bother with courtship anymore. If he had managed to make her feel attractive and desirable, she might have been interested, but it really felt like he simply wanted her to fulfil a need of his. As if he could have turned to any woman and ask for it.

And she had told him so.

It had turned into a shouting match about who worked too much and neglected the other's needs (apparently that was her), who had let themselves go (that was her too), and whose fault it was that their only child had been born with a deadly defect (wanna take a guess who was responsible for bringing those faulty genes to the table? Why, Alex, who else?).

Eventually the bitterness had reached a point where James simply pointed to the front door and shouted: " _Get out!"_

When Alex was sixteen she had gotten into a fight with her dad that had resulted in a similar (though not quite as severe) outburst; _if that's how you feel, Alexandra Jean Miller, you don't get to stay under my roof another minute._ She had replied by screaming _FINE!_ as loud as she could, slamming the door behind her, and running home to her big brother Danny, who lived not far away. Many years later Alex had realised that her father had called Danny ahead to let him know that his impetuous kid sister was on the way and to just let her cool off for a while. Danny had let her in, let her stay for a couple of days until she was ready to go back home, and while she still believed she was right on the issue (she couldn't even remember what the fight had been about anymore, but she did remember _that_ much), she had known all along that in her father's house his rules were law, and if it didn't suit you, well, good riddance.

But she had not known that in her own home as an _adult_ , it was her husband's rules that were law. She thought that kind of thinking was buried in the past, especially since half the mortgage was in her name. So she just stared at him, open-mouthed, not sure how to react.

"You think I'm kidding?" James said, shaking his head. "I'm not. I think I gave up on you a long time ago, Alex. I don't want to look at you any more. I don't care where you go, but I don't want you here tonight. Get out."

"You're throwing me out of my own house?" Alex said in a 'just making sure'-voice.

"You've been throwing me out of my marriage," James said, his hands curling into fists, so tightly his knuckles whitened. "You have no idea how much I have to restrain myself to keep from slapping you right now. Get. Out."

"Don't worry, I wouldn't want to stay either way," she said and headed out, slamming the door shut behind her. She had only taken a few steps when a quiet, but ominous 'click' told her that he had locked the door. It was then that she realised she had done the exact same thing she had done at sixteen; rushed out of her home empty-handed. No purse, no keys. Not even a jacket. And this time there was no Danny she could run to.

As if really emphasising how exposed she was, a raindrop hit her on the forehead. Then a second on the tip of her nose. She looked down at the ground, fighting tears as she felt more raindrops jab at her hair, shoulders, chest.

 _Well. At least I'm wearing shoes_ , she thought. _I almost always walk around home barefoot. So that's something, I guess._

A choked sound, something between a chuckle and a sob, escaped her, then she squared her shoulders and kept walking, not knowing where to go, only that she was not going to go back begging to be let in, like some stray dog scratching at the door. At least as long as she walked, she'd keep warm. If only she had taken her car keys with her… but wishing made no difference.

Nevertheless, she wished this day would end, and she kept wishing it while she walked down the street, heading anywhere that wasn't here.

* * *

"Alex?" an almost timid voice said.

Alex's head snapped up. She felt miserable. She had walked for over an hour straight and her feet and lower back hurt. She was drenched to the skin, and she honestly believed the only reason she had even been allowed inside the coffeeshop was because the barista had a big heart. She had just enough change in her pockets to get a medium latte and now she was trying to savor all the warmth she could from it.

It wasn't the most ideal time to run into her boss.

"Hi Erin," she said and sat back, trying to pretend it was raining. Which it of course was.

"What happened to you?" the blonde asked. Alex looked down at her soaked blouse as if she hadn't noticed it before.

"Oh. That. I just… got caught in the rain."

"You don't expect me to believe that you went outside without a jacket in October, do you? You're one of the most easily chilled people I know, you wouldn't voluntarily go outside without a jacket in _June_."

Alex said nothing.

"I suppose I just answered my own question. It wasn't voluntary," Strauss said. "What can I do?"

"Nothing. I'm fine," Alex snapped.

"Yeah, you look it. Frankly, you look like you think you have nowhere to go."

"I _have_ nowhere to go," Alex said. She was too exhausted to try and make up a reasonable explanation. She tried to wipe a tear from her eye with her soaked sleeve and only managed to smear the runny mascara across half her face.

"That's not true," Strauss said softly and sat down opposite her. "I know you think I take pleasure from your pain, but that's not true. I care a lot about you, Alex. I always have."

"Well, forgive me if that doesn't ring true to me," Alex scoffed. "It's not exactly the experience I have."

"Is it the Amerithrax still?" Strauss reached out to put one hand over Alex's, trying to lock eyes with her even as the other woman fought to look away. "Or is it the other thing?"

Alex bared her teeth in something that wasn't a smile and shook Strauss's hand off hers.

" _The other thing_? That's how you think of it?"

"No, it's not how I think of it. I'm just not sure which words I should use when I talk about it with you. I don't know how _you_ think of it."

"I try not to think of it at all," Alex said. "It hurts too much."

Strauss nodded and slowly stood up, holding out her hand.

"Come on Alex. You're coming home with me."

Alex looked at the offered hand, recounting to herself all the reasons to reject it.

Then she took it.

* * *

Strauss opened the door and Alex took a hesitant step inside. She hadn't been to Erin Strauss's house in over a decade, and in those days, she had been married with three kids living there. It had been a typical upper middle-class family home back then. Now it was a haven of solitude, a place for a veteran career woman to withdraw and breathe. It was somber yet vibrant, with calming colours and soothingly reserved decorations. A fresh scent of flowers – sweet but not intrusive – was in the air. It no longer smelled of secrets, of hidden whisky bottles and breath mints, of a disaster unfolding behind the scenes. This was the home of an older Alice who had once fallen deep into the rabbit hole, but made it through to the other side, scarred and tousled but nowhere near destroyed.

 _If only I could make it through to the other side, too,_ Alex thought to herself. _I seem to be stuck, waiting for the Jabberwocky to get me._

She tried her best to shake the thought off when something bumped against her leg. When she looked down, a large red cat looked back up at her with intense green eyes.

"You have a cat now?" Alex said as she bent down to scratch the animal behind the ears. "Weren't you the one who would never have a pet that sheds?"

"Well," Strauss shrugged and appeared a bit embarrassed, "lint rollers were invented for a reason."

"Right," Alex said, smirking.

"His name is Garfield."

Alex raised her eyebrows.

"How creative."

"Don't mock my cat," Strauss said.

"I'm not mocking your cat," Alex said, straightening up. "I'm mocking you."

"That's ballsy," Strauss said. "Considering the circumstances."

For a moment Alex wondered if her sarcastic mouth had gotten her in trouble – it wouldn't be the first time that happened – but Strauss smiled, so she assumed she was in the clear.

"I take it you remember where the bathroom is," Strauss said, as if she had last been here a month ago. "Go draw yourself a bath, and I'll find you some dry clothes."

Alex took a deep breath with the intention of disagreeing, but Strauss interrupted her before she could get that far.

"For heaven's sake Alex, just do as I say. You'll have plenty of time to argue with me later, but for the time being, can we please focus on getting you warm and dry again? You're shivering, and your lips are actually getting blue."

The air exited Alex's lungs again without helping to form any arguments. She nodded meekly and walked towards the bathroom. Garfield scurried after her, tail raised in the air. Strauss considered grabbing the cat to give Alex some privacy, but decided that the stubborn brunette was more likely to accept some words of comfort if they came in the shape of a cat's purr.

Strauss headed for the closet in the master bedroom, picked out some loose-fitting comfortable clothes – a hoodie, a T-shirt, sweat pants, socks, then hesitated. There had been a time when she had been skin to skin with Alex, and back then Alex wouldn't have blinked at the idea of putting on her underwear, but things had changed. Still, if she didn't at least offer something, Alex might decide to put her rain-soaked underwear back on, rendering the whole idea of dry clothes useless. She took a pair of white boxers that she sometimes wore to bed in the summers, and decided it would have to do. If she didn't say anything about it, Alex wouldn't either. They had turned silence into an art form long ago.

There had been love… but it had been kept in the dark. The question was if that's how it was supposed to be.


End file.
